Storm of strings
by YanderePuppet
Summary: How ACC would've changed if Cloud's geostigma was never cured. Typical Sephiroth dialogue, mentions dark themes. Might become a sephclou yoai.


A/N: had time to write and I was bored, XD. That's serious how this fic was born, although I conceived it months ago XD. Pregnancy related analogies aside, if you've read any of my work in this category before you know the ships and warnings. Only new one, I may have let Lyra go a bit farther than usual when she added in the yaoi bits. So, not graphic, but hints at past rape and/or current dubious consent. Neither is going to be written as much as implied so, no need to worry about that. Same shipping as usual, just no vinclou this time...

One shot. Dark. Not graphic much- it may get violent I'm not sure yet XD

I don't own anything except the parts that are clearly my beliefs/headcanon/plot ideas in the fic only.

Enjoy~ ^.^

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He wasn't sure, at first, why he felt the same strength of both a pulling-wanting and an aversion to those three at first as he had with _him, _Cloud just knew he did. He knew they were somehow related to the silver demon he remembered, he hadn't been sure how at first- with no more scientists and a current lack of funding to Shin-ra he figured it wasn't any more clones. He'd been there when they'd all been struck with that deadly graceful sword as the tall entity gazed casually at him with those blazing green eyes. Of the Nibleheim survivors turned into scientifically altered clones, Cloud himself was the only one remaining. He knew that. Still, the pulse of conflicting emotions struck at him, pulled at him like all the invisible strings the man he remembered liked to pull. It drove him crazy at first before he realized what they were during the heated moments of a fight in the Forgotten Capital. The shortest one had been making a show as if he'd been about to decapitate the blonde (he'd noted that the one with anger issues was the short one and acknowledged in the back of his mind that it was probably a jibe at himself, at the same moment that he realized all three of them were left handed like the man they reminded him so much of) and he'd felt a rush of something that he'd noticed felt missing in the rare moments when he thought of that part of the past with an unwanted longing, or in moments when he was in the middle of a stigma attack- with the voices and hallucinations that felt wrong somehow. He knew then, knew what those three were. He knew the moment one of them actually touched him for any period of time, something unmistakably bad would happen. So he avoided contact with anything but a weapon. Still the curiosity grew. He knew that they were the man's embodied willpower, (except built with infected lifestream,) and that coming in contact with that same willpower had a bad reaction with the corrosive parasitic cells invading his body, still, he was simply curious if it would have a similar reaction with the remnants. So now, as the shorter male drove out of Aerith's church, he chased after without a moments notice. Naturally, in doing so, he missed the healing waters of Aerith's Great Gospel limit flooding, spraying from out of the flower patch. In that moment the healing water, the sole cure he needed to remove the stigma failed to reach him.

That was the same moment that a man and a woman in the lifestream began to weep for their friend, knowing what likely awaited him. The next moment was filled with the blonde and the remnant both screeching their bikes to a halt near the ruins of the shin-ra building. Unsure of what to do, he stared the other down.

"So what happens now?" The blonde questioned.

"She'll tell me." The younger looking male responded, holding up the box that supposedly held what remained of the calamity.

"I suppose a remnant wouldn't get the memo." He didn't really know why he felt the urge to be so... Mocking? Condescending? He felt the angst ridden self hate that took over his thoughts anytime he did something that seemed more like what _he_ would do.

"It doesn't matter if I'm a puppet, you were the same once." The retort came.

At those words, suddenly pain like knifes and hot coals erupted through his infected arm and opposing shoulder. His head throbbed and pulsed with a dull heated agony. The hallucinations began, slow at first, growing stronger as they grew more erratic. First were memories of his own, of friends that died- of their deaths (and the fire, the burning destructive force that foretold madness now in his mind, the representation of the very cause of the deaths, the sadness, the anger that revolved around the blonde) so gory in detail. So many of his fellow infantry from the past coated in blood and spinal fluid- some with urine still dripping from their trousers as a variety of deformed monsters ate their flesh. Zack, the bullet holes in his clothes and the blood. Aerith falling into the lake, the clean, bloodless wound through her middle covered by the soft folds of her dress. Cloud's breath hitched, he couldn't stop the images. Flashes now, memories and scenes of platinum and silver and glowing emerald. That voice, deep and condescending sounded through his skull, mocking_calling__**taunting **_him with its intensity. The same feeling that it was missing something familiar flooded him simultaneous to the intensity of the flashes. Outside the hallucinations, his blue eyes faintly recognized a hand reaching, worried eyes darker than _his_ by a mere fragment, short hair standing on end. Why? Was it that part that was more life stream, or was it the obsession of the man whose will created the boy before him? He knew one thing, the feeling missing from the images and voices was so close. He didn't want it.

"Don't touch me, you'll make it worse." The blonde cried, forcing himself to cringe back.

"But you're-"

"It's not the.." He paused as a particularly strong illusion formed behind his eyelids, "first stigma attack I-I've... Had" he choked out.

Cerulean eyes watched as the envy in the back of those darker green changed to pity.

The remnant spoke quietly.

"I guess I'd rather be myself then, no point wanting the favor of someone so cruel to those he cares for." A small smile. "It's not like I was made to live for long anyway." The gentleness in that tone caused Cloud to forget for a second why it was he'd been avoiding touching the child before him. He reached up a gloved hand to express sympathy, only for both of them to jolt back at an invisible force that sent different shocks through each of them.

The visions in his head strengthened, now corrected with the force that had been missing for so long, and the remnant standing before him jerkily walked back to where the box with the head sat silent and patient. Cloud moved to stop him, but the voice calling him had conviction now. It wrapped him in its sound so strongly he couldn't break away.

_Shh wait, wait here. Patience... Yes be patient, wait for me. Stay and wait, and remember what you are... Mine all mine. _

He struggled, knowing full well what would happen if he gave in, but everything looked so strange. He couldn't make sense of his surroundings. He refused to stay still. Something had to be done... He couldn't stay here and let the man return, but he wasn't sure where he was going, everything was a jumble of color and sensation that had no order and no sense. Everything was nothing, nothing was there but that voice and he could feel its perverse nature corroding his very thoughts- he felt the uncontrollable needing_wanting__**yearning**__**calling**_ to listen, to give in, to _obey_. To blindly follow the man_demon__**god**_ and do exactly as he said. But he wouldn't. Cloud knew he wasn't weak. But he knew also that he couldn't hold on forever. There was nothing to do but wait for the effect to fade, to struggle against the tainted destructive desires tugging at every fiber of his being. To fight the tide and drag his will forward, away from the edge of that torrential Charybdis of corruption. The insanity, madness, mania that came over him when he gave in. The waves suffocated him, they pulled and tugged and pushed, unceasing, unrelenting, and undeniably made part of him yearn more for the heart of the temptation. The mania in which he forgot his pain, forgot his sorrow, forgot the anger, the rage, the hatred he felt at himself in light of his inability to feel that same boiling fire-hot rage at the other when he should. The mania in which he couldn't fight, didn't want to fight the tugging, the pulling, the _controlling _ministrations that he knew would be his downfall if he surrendered- but the vortex wasn't about to be denied, the siren's call was insatiable. His fighting and contemplating made the call worse. It was hunger and need and want, a desire to control someone so completely that they couldn't seperate from the one in control. And suddenly, the siren himself radiating all the smugness of a victor. A cruel God of destruction and conquest making a claim on the champion denied to him so long. Yet, on closer inspection he also seemed as a veteran seeing the ghost of a comrade who'd been closer than family. It was true, yet, not entirely. Nothing could quite define the obsession and anger and wanting bread between the siren God and the tired warrior. The game of pulling and controlling, the friendship that had existed (even stronger to the siren after the death of Zack, since the rest of the cherished people had faded and it was down to the defiant blonde with the saddened eyes) defined a good portion of the cause. The silver warrior wouldn't let go of the blonde. The blonde in turn was also unable to get away. Because of this, Cloud felt odd when the control retreated, the siren call over as the tall being with the poison green eyes and corrosive willpower stood in place of the smaller remnant that had been there before him (the remnant having known what to do likely because the parasitic cells invading Clouds body, and the dark forces that created the remnant mixed to channel the monster's desire. It caused the shorter boy to understand what he was made to do, and how to go about doing it.) Those lips (so pale for lips, yet so dark compared to the unnatural white of the hair and the wax statue complexion of that marble like face) curled slowly up into a smirk that meant so many of the unspoken feelings between them that just were. _Mine_ those eyes proclaimed, the smirking lips spoke of gloating amusement (like that of a king watching a subject squirm before the site of their execution after a harsh betrayal,) and yet- the stance (so high and tall and mighty as the stature implied) while cold was warm. Distanced yet near. Kind and gentle in its force and strength. Caring yet cold and entirely void of softness, a mockery of a compassion or a love- not of the romantic sort so much as the way one would feel for a child lost in the slums, or an injured kitten on the street, or perhaps a friend that was known to be suicidal in the darkest hours of night. Yet it was darker. Perverse in the sense of nature. It was possessive beyond need. And Cloud found himself lost in the meaning hidden by every gesture the other made. The smirk grew.

"It's good to see you, Cloud." The entity finally broke the contemplative silence that pervaded their surroundings for that brief second that felt like hours. _This isn't a good or bad meeting so much as bittersweet._ Cloud mused. Yet, it made sense. Nothing between them was strictly, clearly defined. No clean cut black and white, good and evil, it was a jumble of madness and wanting and regrets. A siren calling a victim, because that victim was a friend who'd been left behind on accident while all the others died. A man facing one who was friend, foe, idol, and master all at once yet not at all. Cloud's face fell into a scowl as he stood mere feet out of the reach of that oversized embodiment of balanced, precise destruction that resided at the tall beings side. All six feet of its beautiful length mirrored them, reflections watching from the glimmering surface of the sword. The taller figure paused, a slight hum leaving in a single, drawn out breath that was mockingly confused. "You don't seem very pleased to see me." Dark chuckling filled the cold air between them. "Perhaps we should fix that." With a knowing smirk the man drew the weapon at his side, pointing it at the blonde. "Or would you rather stand around like a stuffed corpse and reminisce about all the things you can't fix?" In defensive anger the blonde charged at him. Their swords met with the clashing, clanging, shriek of steel on steel as sparks fell around them.

"You bastard, what are you plotting?!" Cloud said over the glinting blade of his fusion sword. The other simple chuckled.

"I'm the bastard here? Do you even know your father's name?" Silence and a few more slashes as the blonde removed Sidewinder from the larger sword and hacked away with violent rage at the taller entity, not one hit landing anywhere other than that six foot blade. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out. You still have the stigma, don't you?" The fiend practically purred.

"Why should it matter if I do?" The blonde asked softly, more confused than angry.

Laughter. Cold, dark, captivating laughter was the response the other gave. Green eyes locked on to the blonde in amusement before the taller figure turned away, fist over his lips to stifle the sound. Then the man straightened his stature, staring at the shorter of the two. His hands deftly swapped the unnecessary length of his weapon to his off hand as he lifted his left to beckon the blonde forward. His face still held an overly smug smirk.

"Come here." He ordered softly, ignoring the breeze that whipped his long hair around his face.

"I'd rather not." The blonde said defiantly, even as his feet moved forward without his consent.

"Why are you then?" The ever present smirk managed to appear even more smug.

"Shut up." Another step. "Your doing that, not me." Two more steps.

"What makes you say that, _Cloud?_" A chuckle. "I've never _made_ you do anything you didn't already want to do."

"Shut up!" They were close enough to touch if Cloud shuffled even another millimeter. The blonde looked away, only for gloved fingers to ensnare his chin and yank it forcibly back.

"Hmmmm? Did I touch a sensitive subject, or are you in denial again?" More low purring, followed by a condescending chuckle.

The blonde didn't answer, instead choosing to glare defiantly with all the hatred he could muster. A soft caress made its way across the blonde's cheek, and Cloud made to walk away and draw his sword, only to freeze as tendrils of what looked like dark smoke began to emit from the other's hands.

"You want to know the plan, didn't you? Tell me, puppet, if you know what this is." The blonde eyed the smoke warily, noticing more of it encroaching from the sky in a mock imitation of stormclouds. Briefly he wondered if that was supposed to be a jibe at him as well.

"Ghosts of geostigma victims?" It felt similar to the tainted lifestream of the remnant he had been fighting, so it seemed like a decent guess. The other's smirk turned positively feral.

"Good boy." The demon cooed. Cloud sneered at the praise. "That is correct." Cloud felt the other lift his chin higher, and forced himself to not waver or shake as their eyes met. "Can you guess what it's for?" Cloud distantly wondered how much more feral that smirk would get before Sephiroth's face froze like that.

"I don't really care." The blonde stated.

"Hmmm?" The smirk disappeared and the other's gaze became thoughtful. "... Liar." The smirk was back.

"If you really need to spill the whole scheme before I send you to the lifestream again, then fine. I'm not going to listen." The blonde spat.

"You really need to work on your honesty, Cloud. You seem to conveniently forget that I can read your mind as well as control it." At those words the blonde began to seethe. He didn't have a chance to reply, however, as Sephiroth put a hand over the younger man's mouth to silence him. "No need for you to say anything. We both know that you're either going to say 'shut up' or 'I don't care," he paused, tilting his pale face in mock curiousity "isn't that right, _Cloud." _The blonde continued to glare around the gloved hand that held him silent and captive, wondering why that cruel demonic man always emphasized his name that way. That possessive note that the former hero's voice took when ever he stressed that _one_ _specific_ syllable caused Cloud's fingers to twitch, his eyes to waver, his heart to clench in anger and wanting and self hate at his own weakness when it came to all things regarding the would be god before him. "Ah I forget, you can't talk right now." Those emerald eyes glittered with a poisonous amusement. The hand removed itself to the blonde's back, pulling him closer. The other remained on his chin.

"What do you want with me?" The smaller man asked, fully getting what the man had hinted at, and forcing himself to ignore the taunts and jibes.

"I want everything, Cloud." Sephiroth replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in all existence. The taller man leaned forward ever so slightly, lining up their faces so his lips were mere centimeters from the blonde's ear. "And I want you to give it to me." A chuckle as he closed the last centimeter, brushing the flesh at the top of Cloud's ear lightly. The blonde felt his pulse raise and his head fogged up. The call to obey returned, stronger, even more insatiable. The closeness set all of the foreign matter in his body on fire with the needing, wanting, pulling that he despised as much as he loved. He tried to redirect his thoughts to something not entirely corrupted by the all consuming madness and the call for reunion that coursed through him. Those lips moved lower, the other's hair falling over him. _"You're mine._" Came the rumbling, undeniable statement. Cloud felt his pupils become slits at an excessive speed. He felt the needing increase and grow and overtake all else. He _wanted_ this more than anything.

"I know." He replied. "No one else's but yours." He cast his eyes down, barely reacting as those cold lips left his ear. The other's breath ghosted over Cloud's face.

The fiend chuckled once more. "That's right, mine. No one else can have you." Fingers jerked the blonde forward toward the demonic entity's exposed chest.

With a sudden flinch te blonde recalled his senses.

"Get out of my head!" He shoved te taller being away, or, tried to. Sephiroth stood immovable, an impenetrable force of sheer corruption, and the call in his blood yearned to apologize and let the man go on with what he had been doing. But Cloud wouldn't have it. He forcibly ignored the unwanted thoughts that began to flit back and forth across his unstable mind. The one thought he couldn't seem to shake or escape screamed at him- that he was being bad, he needed to apologize because he was being bad and master wouldn't like it. But he shook his head. It was a trick. Not his thought, not how he felt. How _he_ wanted him to feel. The smokey tendrils from the others fingertips extended towards the blonde's face taunting him with there closeness. His body, his mind were singing, crying, screaming at him as to step closer.

"Come." It was a command. He couldn't fight it, Cloud tried all he could but he did. He stepped closer and the tendrils wrapped around him in the shape of little marionette strings. And suddenly he gave in forever.

a/n: meh I might add more later if I get reviews or something


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